


and the world continues to spin

by claudine



Series: claudine's summerpornathon 2012 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Androids, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudine/pseuds/claudine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say time heals all wounds. But it never goes away, not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the world continues to spin

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge Three: [Non-human Characters](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/80918.html)  
> Entry #62

“How do you buy presents for someone who has everything?”

Morgana had looked at him with a strange smile.

“By getting them something they couldn’t bear to get for themselves, of course.”

Of course, _of course._ She'd always had a slightly cruel streak even when they were children.

 

Arthur sits on the floor, staring at the cool flesh wrapped in plastic. His hands shake. He thought he had gotten over the worst of the grief, but in a rush it all comes back—the sheer, stabbing pain, the gaping hole of _knowing._

They say time heals all wounds. But it never goes away, not really.

***

 

“You can do this,” he says as he unwraps the plastic from the still body.

Every inch is like a revelation; a discovery made anew by memories worn away by the years.

It’s terrifying to realize how weak the human mind is.

He can’t help but run his hands over that beloved face; the long lashes, the straight nose, the full lips. They'd even managed to give him stubble. Merlin was never very good at shaving.

Angrily, he scrubs at the tears pricking at his eyes. There and then he decides that the best way to do this is all at once, like pulling off a plaster. It’s surprisingly easy once he puts his mind to it.

Merlin looks like he’s asleep in the box he came in.

He realizes with a jolt that he’s just referred to this facsimile, this _imitation_ , as Merlin. It’s with a sharp spike of anger at Morgana’s meddling that he fumbles for the manual and finally starts the Synthetic up.

***

 

It flutters its eyelashes once or twice, and then its bright blue eyes open and focus on him.

“Arthur,” it says, smiling familiarly.

It shocks him to hear that voice call his name again.

***

 

They develop a routine. The Synth helps him with the chores and is free to spend the rest of its time however it wishes to. Once or twice, it had tried to start a conversation, only to be shut down by Arthur’s curt replies. He doesn’t wonder about the hurt look in its eyes that is so like Merlin’s.

***

 

It’s half a year before Arthur gives in.

They’re rutting now, desperate and fast, like Mer—the Synth is craving for it as much as he is. It’s probably programmed, but he doesn’t care. He’s gone without touch for so long and the skin slickly sliding against his feels so good.

“Arthur, Arthur,” it cries out, grinding its hips against his. “I…”

He shushes him—it, and leans to capture its lips with his. They’re… warm. It’s like re-discovering a long-lost instinct, and he sucks at its tongue, marveling at the texture, the taste, so like Merlin’s.

The Synth—he—moans and grips the hair at his neck, angling his head for better access.

They pull off their clothes in a hurry, buttons popping. Merlin’s skin is flushed becomingly, and Arthur takes a moment to stare at the whorls of hair on his lean chest, fascinated. He drags a fingernail down his nipple, causing Merlin to let out a high keening sound. He’s breathing fast now, mouth slightly open, eyes glassy, looking at Arthur.

Something breaks in him, and now he can’t stop the tears from falling. He misses this so much. With shaky fingers, he slicks himself with lube and prepares Merlin.

Merlin flips them over and it seems like he’s staring straight into his soul. Then slowly and gingerly, he positions himself and slides down on Arthur’s cock.

It’s warm and snug, and the sweat makes things slippery between them. Merlin keeps trying to say something but stops himself halfway, like he’s not sure how to phrase the words. Arthur’s weeping openly, trying to stop, but it’s as if all the tears he didn’t allow himself to shed are finally gushing out, its dam broken.

“In the car… before, before I, before _he_ died,” Merlin stutters out, and Arthur jerks, feeling as if his heart as stopped.

“…said he was sorry and that he loved you.”

He’s sobbing now, breaths coming in broken, hiccupped gasps. He doesn’t understand why or _how_ this android knows, but it’s what he’s wanted to hear all these years, underneath the regret.

With one last thrust, they come together. The rest can wait, he thinks.


End file.
